Hob stepped out onto the porch, cradling the potted goblin tree in his arms. “Here you go, Zeke. I admire your dedication to your plants.” He lowered the tree down onto the front steps leading to his shop. “Are you sure you want to take it tonight?”
Dad motioned toward Keelie. “Since the little tree is the only thing left of Heartwood … ”
“Yes, I missed it so much. I couldn’t spend another night without my tree.” Keelie sighed sadly, not faking, although her sadness wasn’t related to the angry and ungrateful beast of a tree.
The little goblin tree sent Keelie angry red thoughts. You lie. You don’t care about me. Nobody cares about me.
She smiled at the goblin tree, Hob, and Dad to mask what she was truly feeling, which was to toss the treeling onto the hot embers. You’re lucky to be alive. You’re going with us whether you want to or not.
Green-red anger seethed within the little tree. Keelie sensed the goblin taint flowing its sap like venom, slowly poisoning it with dark magic. She had to find a way to get it out before it got out of hand.
I know a secret that you don’t know, and when you find out, you’re going to die. They want you dead. All of them, for what you did.
She didn’t know what the little tree meant, so she ignored its ranting.
Dad picked up the tree and waved good night to Hob. “Thank you again for your help.”
“You would’ve done the same for me. I’m sorry about your loss, and I’m going to make sure everyone knows it was Vangar who did this.”
Dad didn’t look over at the smoking ruin of what had been their shop and their home. “I don’t think it was Vangar who started the fire.” His voice weary. “We appreciate your help, Hob, in alerting the other shopkeepers to the fire.”
“Despite your generous spirit, Zeke, Vangar is the guilty party, and the other shopkeepers have complained about his forge.” Hob lifted his handsome face, and in the light glowing from within the shop defiance glinted in his eyes.
Hob definitely had it in for Vangar.
“Keelie, let’s go.” Dad’s voice was hard and crisp. One of the little goblin tree’s branches slapped Dad across the face. He didn’t flinch. Anyone who wasn’t familiar with trees would’ve assumed it was a breeze that made the branch move.
She followed Dad into the trees. She had no idea where they were going.
Once they were on the bridge, out of sight of the shops up the hill, Dad put down the pot and grabbed the goblin tree by its uppermost branches, letting the clay pot dangle over the edge of the bridge.
Shocked, Keelie opened herself to their telepathic conversation.
Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t drop you now.
Go ahead and do it.
Was the little tree suicidal, pushing Dad like this? Had the fire driven Dad to the edge of sanity?
Her lantern swinging wildly, Keelie rushed over and tried to grab the tree’s trunk. “Stop, Dad. What are you doing? You’ve got to stop.”
Knot raced by and jumped on the bridge railing. “Meow!”
Dad’s look stopped her. “This tree has a choice. It can live, or if it wants to destroy itself, then I’ll make its wish come true. But it’s not going to take anyone else with it.”
Keelie didn’t like seeing her father like this. She forced herself to remain calm. “You’re scaring me, Dad. I don’t understand what you’re doing. Let’s take the tree to the elves. It’ll be safe, and none of them can hear it talking.”
“No! It will put them in danger.”
Keelie turned to the goblin tree, who pushed its face through the bark at her.
You stupid elves won’t figure out what’s going on, not before it’s too late.
She ignored it. “Dad, what did the goblin tree do that has you so upset?”
The treeling’s laughter echoed in her mind. The acorn doesn’t fall from the tree. Hey Zeke—she can’t figure it out. I’ll tell you what, Keliel Tree Talker. Dear old Dad thinks that your precious goblin and little ol’ me started the fire.
Keelie inhaled sharply and coughed as if smoke had filled her lungs again.
“Keelie?” Dad seemed as if he’d suddenly come back to himself.
“I’m okay.” But the tree definitely wasn’t. “Is it telling the truth?”
Dad nodded grimly.
The goblin tree laughed hysterically. Go ahead and toss me down to the river. I’ve always wanted to know what it is like to fly.
“Zeke, are you and Keelie okay?” A loud voice boomed from the other end of the bridge.
Keelie sighed with relief when she recognized Sir Davey.
“We’re fine,” Dad answered. “Stay back, Davey.”
“Folks said they saw you and Keelie walk toward Water Sprite Lane. Why don’t you rest at my camper?” Davey’s voice had a cautious tone.
Dad slowly nodded. “I think that’s a good idea.”
The goblin tree narrowed its eyes and chortled. They’re coming for you. They’re going to get you and your mean cat, too.
She had to think. So much had happened tonight. Vangar had said he had been set up—could he have been telling the truth? Keelie decided to look into it. Right now, she had to defuse the situation at hand, because it felt as if she was being dragged to a place between madness and sanity. It was a fragile border.
seven
The stream burbled under the bridge. Keelie wondered if the sprite was down below listening to this conversation.
Even the bhata gathered in the trees had been silent as they watched the horror unfolding before them. A tree shepherd threatening a tree. She sensed their confusion.
“Dad, should we take the tree with us to the RV? No one will know it’s there, and its small enough to keep inside.”
The little goblin tree spat sap. I do not wish to be among humans. They’re filthy and nasty, and they’re loud.
Dad tightened his hold on the goblin tree’s branches. “Davey, this tree is responsible for what happened to Heartwood. It could’ve killed Keelie and destroyed the entire faire.”
Despite Dad’s command to stay back, Sir Davey came onto the bridge, his hand smoothing his Van Dyke beard. “There are those among the shop owners who think the blacksmith might be guilty. How can a tree have started a fire?”
“With a goblin. This tree’s roots have grown in the goblin taint. Its green soul has been twisted to evil.” Dad seemed more angry than sad at the transformation of the little tree. “It worked with the goblin to start the fire.”
Good thing Dad hadn’t worked with her in the Redwood Forest. He would have wanted to destroy all of the goblin-affected trees. A whole national park.
“Dad, let’s just take the goblin tree to the RV,” Keelie said. “We’ll search for a calming charm in the Compendium.” Her voice trailed away and a wave of loss washed over her. The Compendium had burned. She didn’t know how she’d tell Elianard. He’d never get over it, and he’d blame her for its loss. There was no other record of the spells and charms the Dread Forest elves had used for centuries, and she wouldn’t be able to look for a spell to counteract the evil effect of the Red Cap’s blood.
“We’ll figure it out,” she said finally. “I’ll contact Grandmother and Norzan. As tree shepherds, we can work together to find a solution.”
She had a new idea, one she didn’t dare tell her father. Maybe the Shining Ones—the Fairy High Court—could help her find an antidote for the goblin tree. If she could keep it alive for that long.
Dad pulled the goblin tree back over the bridge railing and lowered it onto the wooden planks. It howled as its trunk scraped the railing. “Take the cursed tree, Davey, but watch it closely.” Dad straightened as if summoning strength to continue on.
“No need to worry. I’ll have others to help me keep an eye on it.” Davey eyed the little tree warily, as if it might sprout bat wings and fangs. “Doesn’t look menacing. Just a skinny little tree.”
Knot trotted onto the bridge and sniffed around the tree
’s container. “Meow.”
Keelie used to think understanding “cat” was hard, but once you really listened to the vowel arrangements and tonal inflection, it was easy.
“Later,” she whispered.
Knot crooked his tail. It was a sign he wasn’t happy, but she didn’t need the added stress of dealing with Vangar.
She’d search around Heartwood for clues. There had to be evidence of how the fire started, and she’d start with a talk with Finch. Although they’d put the fire out themselves, without help from a fire department, the resident dragon and fire expert probably could tell Keelie something about its cause.
“Keelie, come with me. We’ve been summoned by the elves,” Dad said.
“About what?” Keelie asked. “If they’re offering a group hug, I’ll pass.”
“Not a hug at all. They’re concerned about the forest, and because we’re tree shepherds, we must hear them, no matter that we have pressing problems of our own, like being homeless.” Dad’s voice was laced with bitterness.
Davey lifted the tree and it began smacking him with its branches, but he simply tilted his head back, out of reach. He walked around the side of the bridge, where he’d left a handcart, and plunked the beastly tree into it. The goblin tree rocked back and forth as if attempting an escape. Keelie wouldn’t have been surprised to see it push its roots out of the confines of the container and take off running into the woods on spindly root-feet.
If you crash and break your pot, then I’ll replant you in Knot’s litter box. Think about it—cat poo on your roots. So calm down and go with Sir Davey.
Knot swiveled his head around and meowed angrily.
The tree quit thrashing. I hate that cat. It sprayed me with urine.
Knot washed his tail, declaring his innocence, or at least his lack of concern.
Will you water me? I’m feeling a little dry after that attack. The tree was acting normal now. Seems there was a fate worse than being dumped into the stream—Knot’s litter box was treemageddon. Who knew?
Dad shook his head in disbelief. “Miraculous,” he said, bowing to Keelie.
Keelie dropped a curtsey in return.
Sir Davey seemed shocked at the tree’s sudden cooperation, since of course he hadn’t heard the conversation in tree speak.
Keelie smiled and explained. “I threatened to plant it in Knot’s litter box. Keep us posted.”
“I will,” Sir Davey said. “Or I’ll take you to the dragon,” he mumbled to the goblin tree. Keelie caught the tree’s last thoughts as it was wheeled out of the way.
Dragon? Don’t take me to the dragon.
Keelie wondered if Sir Davey and Finch had something up their sleeves to get the goblin tree to cooperate. She’d offer to deliver Knot’s litter box later to use as a threat, but it, too, was a pile of ashes.
They stopped at Janice’s shop to borrow another lantern before heading to the elven village, which meant that Dad thought the meeting might last long into the night. Dad was silent, and Keelie thought about what Heartwood’s loss meant to him. The fine furniture he had built was gone, all his time and craftsmanship vanished in a single night. And though the apartment above wasn’t his permanent home, he’d lived there every summer for years.
She put her hand on his arm, and he tucked it into the crook of his elbow. She’d lost a lot, but she had her father, and last year, after her mother’s death, she’d thought she’d be alone forever.
Now she had Dad, and Knot, and Cricket. The little goblin was still missing, but Keelie kept her eyes peeled for any sign of him.
She glanced at Dad. Maybe if she said something, it would help alleviate the dreadful tension flowing from him. She didn’t know what the elves wanted, but a summons was always bad news, and, in Keelie’s experience, it usually involved some threat or a reminder that she wasn’t one of them.
Knot slipped ahead, dancing through the ferns.
“Dad, have you seen Cricket?”
He glanced at her. “In the vast pile of problems we’ve accumulated over the past few hours, a missing goblin does not register.”
“He’s just a baby.” Keelie was stunned by Dad’s reaction. Although she knew he blamed Cricket for the fire, Dad could have offered a word of comfort to her rather than a scolding.
Her silence must have given him a clue to her thoughts. “It’s a goblin,” he repeated. “It can take care of itself. It’s probably off in a garbage can, eating something vile. It’ll
be back. Come on. We don’t want to keep our brethren waiting.”
The forest path turned to crushed stone, then flat stones set into the ground. They passed the first of the gray stone cottages where the elves lived while at this faire, a sign of how old the faire was. She remembered the first time she’d come here. She hadn’t been welcome then either, but now she knew more about her so-called brethren.
Sean stepped off a porch and onto the cobbled path. He greeted them, but kept his eyes on Dad with only a glance at Keelie. Her heart dropped. What was awaiting them?
“Follow me.” He turned and walked briskly to the communal stone building that stood in a square of lawn. Candles in a chandelier flickered above, throwing a honey-soft light on the wooden table in the middle of the cold and austere room. Several elves had gathered around the table including Elianard and, surprisingly, Lady Etilafael, the head of the Elven Council in the Dread Forest. What was she doing here?
Keelie had been right. It was a Council meeting, and she didn’t have a good feeling about this one. Not that her prior experiences with elves had been a picnic, but tonight’s meeting seemed extra somber. Couldn’t this wait until tomorrow or the next day, when they’d recovered a little from the fire?
“Good evening, Zekeliel.” Elianard motioned toward an empty chair. “Please sit. It seems this couldn’t wait, although I encouraged all to have this meeting take place during daylight hours.”
The jousters had lined up against the back wall. They all wore stoic expressions. Keelie knew these guys—when they weren’t jousting they liked to clown around with Sean, but here, under their steely and hard gaze, she felt as if she was standing accused of something. It reminded her of when she’d been taken before the Council on suspicion of using dark magic. She shivered.
“Evidence has been found that goblins are on the move, and that they are here hiding in and around the human town of Fort Collins,” said a voice from the shadows.
Chills danced up Keelie’s spine as she recognized the speaker. As if sensing her awareness, Lord Niriel stepped forward. What was he doing here? He’d been exiled, last fall, for his role in the assault on the Wildewood unicorn in a misguided attempt to protect the Dread Forest. Even though Niriel was Sean’s dad, Keelie couldn’t forgive the handsome elf.
Dad stiffened beside her, and he reached down to squeeze her hand.
Tonight Niriel was dressed in jewel-toned robes; it certainly didn’t look as if he had been roughing it on the road. Of course, he’d been living in Germany, where he’d been sent on a swordsmith exchange, so he probably had plenty of cash for nice garb.
He looked around the table, then spoke in grave tones. “Recently, I sought an audience with Terciel, the leader of the Northwoods elves, and he spoke of many disturbing things.” Niriel paused. “One is that a goblin army is on the move, and I have come to warn you that they are here.”
Etilafael looked around at the assembled elves. “Although Niriel was sent away from his home forest, he still strives to help his elven brethren. This grave news, on the heels of the attack in the Northwoods, tells us that we need all the help we can assemble. His diligence and his need to protect all elves have enlightened the Council. Therefore, we have decided to abolish his exile, reinstating him to his former status within our clan.”
Murmurs of approval circulated among the elves.
Keelie nearly swallowed her tongue. Furious, she couldn’t believe what she had just heard. Niriel had been slapped on the hand, told he was a bad elf,
and asked to behave nicely.
“What evidence have you found?” Dad asked, very calmly. His eyes were glued on Niriel, waiting to hear what words he would spout to worm his way back into the good graces of all the elves.
“During the months I’ve had to endure without my son, my home forest, and my tribe”—Niriel swept his hands around in a dramatic gesture—“I traveled to Portland, the human city, where rumors hold that goblins roam in large numbers. The diabolical creatures live in the sewers and exist on garbage, and now I have evidence they have spread, and are here.”
A sinking feeling hit Keelie in the pit of her stomach when one of the jousters brought a silver cage into the room. Cricket sat in the middle of it, chewing on a plastic bottle, oblivious to his surroundings. They placed him in the center of the table. All of the elves scooted back, expressions of horror flashing across their faces.
Keelie was about to run and snatch up the cage in her arms, but Dad blocked her with an outstretched arm. She cut her eyes over to him, and he shook his head.
“This creature does not seem threatening,” Dad declared. “Do you base your fear-mongering on this pathetic insect?” His voice was suddenly in her thoughts. Don’t react, whatever happens, Keelie. I’m afraid that if they destroy your pet, you will be next. His hand squeezed hers again.
Even knowing that Dad was just trying to calm the elves’ fears, Keelie felt a twinge of outrage. Cricket was not an insect.
Niriel walked around the table until he was directly across from them. “Lord Zekeliel, you have lost much because of the goblins. Your home here, your business—I would think that you would be the first to call for their destruction.”
“What is your interest in this, Lord Niriel? Or do you have unconcluded business from our last encounter in the Dread Forest?” Dad ignored the gasps around the table.
The Goblin's Curse: The Scions of Shadow Trilogy, Book 3 (The Faire Folk Saga) Page 7